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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴇɢᴀʟʟʏ
ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪs. ɪɴ ғᴀᴄᴛ, ɪᴛ
ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪғ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ. ꒱


❝ I'M DOING MARTIAL ARTS! ❞

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The world around Dolores faded. She was still in the convenience store— that much was obvious due to the aisles that sat in rows around her— but there weren't any customers. She was very clearly the only one in the shop. Light streamed in from the glass doors to create warm, golden patches on the tiles at the front of the store. It was too incredibly peaceful after witnessing the place being in the throes of a fight. The brunette frowned. "What the. . . hell?"

Some of the brightness faded as a figure took shape on the other side of the door. Her confusion turned into curiosity. A cheery chime sounded as the bell jingled above the door, which was pushed open. A woman's figure took on a more distinctive form the closer she came. Dolores' breath caught in her throat and she could hardly speak above a whisper as she let out the startled question: "mom?"

The woman's brown hair was cut into a sharp bob around her chin and her bangs hung just above her eyes— much like Dolores' had for most of her life. Her angular face seemed to be softer than Dolores remembered and there was an unusual kindness to her eyes. (Now, this wasn't because her mother hadn't been kind, but she had been termed "the enforcer" by Uncle Ed. Her father had been "the comforter.")

"Of course it's me, Dolores." Ah, there she was. No matter how many times she'd insisted on being called 'Lola,' Diana would always use her given name. Although, her answer was spoken more gently than her typical sharp reprimand.

The brunette stared at the woman with a kind of awed reverence. It had been nearly fifty years since she'd seen either of her parents and after everything, she had been beginning to doubt if she ever would again. It only took her a few seconds to jerk herself out of her daze and fling herself at the taller woman.

"Mom!" This was said as more of an exclamation than a question. Any doubts that Dolores might've had about the strangeness of the convenience store evaporated without a second thought.

Diana bent slightly to accommodate their height difference— though Dolores was taller and older than she'd ever been in the original timeline— and wrapped her arms around the slender girl. The teen couldn't hold back her tears as she cried for the second time that day (but still, at least it wasn't about Five.) She wept with relief into the dark, silky material of her mother's blazer.

The woman's arms tightened around her as her slender fingers ran through the short brown strands of Dolores' hair comfortingly. "There's no need for tears, Warrior Girl. It's alright. You've done well."

She couldn't help but feel like she was fifteen again even though it had been years and years since her mind had reflected her age. Sniffing, she pulled away to look up into her mother's warm, brown eyes. "Really?" she asked with her voice full of hope.

"Of course," Diana replied. She sounded slightly surprised that Dolores would think otherwise. "You've done more than anyone could have ever expected." She moved her hand to her daughter's cheek and gently wiped away her tears. "We're proud of you, you know."

Her heart squeezed at the words she longed to hear. Every day for the last five or six decades, she felt like she'd been pushing a ball of twine up a hill. A ball of obligation— that she would happily shoulder— due to her love for Five. She'd said time and time again that she wasn't a hero. She wasn't born to do this, to save the world— that she was one of the people who died instead. No matter how many times she'd tried to explain this to her (now ex-)husband, he'd never seemed to understand because he had been born for this.

All she'd wanted was for him— or someone— to tell her that she was doing a good job. It might've seemed like a naïve, foolish thing to want with the fate of the world at stake, but she'd been out of her element for fifty-plus years.

"Your mom's right, you know." Dolores shifted her gaze away from her mother's. A man with blond hair and light blue eyes smiled affectionately down at her.

At first, she thought her Uncle Ed had joined the family reunion— the original Uncle Ed— until she realized— "Dad?"

He opened his arms for a hug. "Come here, Warrior Girl." Her father received the same welcome as her mother had. "You really have lived up to the name your mom and I gave you," he said with a little chuckle. "How'd we do that?"

"I think you guys and Uncle Ed know everything," her reply came out muffled against his cable-knit sweater.

"Dolores!"

The brunette lifted her head at the sound of her name, but neither of her parents had spoken it. Her mother was still gazing at her with an expression full of love, half-crouched on the ground. Her father looked down at her with confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I thought I heard. . . never mind." She dismissed the intrusion. "Mom, dad—"

"Dolores!" The voice had taken on an urgent tone and she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

No!

She resisted the attempt to bring her back to reality. Desperation to keep her parents close made her blurt out the rest of her request: "group hug?"

Smiling, they both nodded in agreement and converged towards her. She wrapped her arms around both of them and closed her eyes as she bent her head into the warm, safe place between their bodies. Dolores clung to her parents to keep them from slipping away— forever— because she wasn't ready to say goodbye to them yet. One minute— five minutes— ten minutes— a lifetime wouldn't be enough to recover the years she'd lost to the apocalypse.

"Dolores!"

✧✧✧

"I mean, who does that? Who does it?" Diego asked his siblings later that evening. He, Dolores and Stanley had escaped from the Sparrows and spent the rest of the day recovering from their encounter. Dolores hadn't spoken a single word since he'd pulled her out of the hallucination— not even a thank you!— and now he'd joined Allison and Viktor for drinks. The brunette had chosen to sit with his son rather than actively participate in any conversation.

"What are you mumbling about?" Allison asked sharply.

"Lila," he answered. As he reflected on the events of the day, he played with ripped-up pieces of paper that had come from the straw in his water. "Dumping Stan on my after all these years? I mean, that's not right."

Viktor scoffed. "Hey, man, if you did the deed, don't blame her for the consequences."

"That's-that's not the point."

"Oh? What's the point?"

"He's cramping my style!" Diego complained. "I mean, at least I have Dolores to look after him now. But still. I need to be able to react to danger on a moment's notice. Now that I'm teaching her how to fight in exchange for babysitting—"

"You're teaching her how to fight?" Allison echoed with amusement. Her tone became sardonic. "Aren't you worried about how our doting brother will react?"

"Dolores left Five," Viktor replied. "I don't think she gives two shits about what he thinks anymore."

That caught her attention and the brunette raised an intrigued eyebrow. She glanced over to where Dolores was staring moodily into her dark brown alcoholic beverage. "Really? I mean, she's certainly acting like it. I can't say I'm surprised since she's not. . . exactly cut out for this life. It was only a matter of time."

"She's not acting like that because of Five," Diego was quick to explain. "We. . . had an encounter earlier today that threw her off."

"This timeline's thrown everyone off. She's nothing special," Allison retorted. "At least she has her husband."

✧✧✧

Over at the "kids" table, Dolores and Stanley sat in an uncomfortable silence. The brunette didn't really notice the awkwardness and planned to spend the entire night drowning her sorrows in alcohol. Diego had ordered her first drink as "babysitting payment" since she hadn't witnessed the rest of the fight. Now, she just had to convince him to order about ten more.

Finally, the silence grew to be too much for Stan and the boy leaned towards her curiously. "Can I have some?"

Her reply was short and to the point: "no."

He huffed. "Why not? You're only a few years older than me!"

"Because, kid, we've already explained this to you. I only look nineteen. I'm mentally old enough to be your grandmother."

"I know, I know. You've already said that time travel is a shitshow—"

"Language," Dolores drawled as she took a sip from her whiskey.

Stan rolled his eyes. "It's not fair," he sighed.

"Life isn't fair, kid. Get used to it."

With nothing else to do while they waited for the other Hargreeves to be finished, the boy decided to ignore her careless tone and alcoholic tendencies. "What did you see?"

"What are you on about?"

"At the convenience store, when you froze up. Diego had to snap you out of it."

Dolores stiffened for a moment before she relented. "My parents. I haven't seen them for half a century."

Thankfully, Stan didn't say anything like I'm sorry or that's terrible. Instead, he offered: "I haven't seen my mom for a week."

"I'm guessing that you don't mean Lila."

He snorted with amusement. "Of course not. What idiot would believe that?" The brunette nodded to Diego. "Oh. Right. Well, you were correct when you said he's not my dad."

"I thought as much."

Stan leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper— not that Diego could hear him a table away and with the light jazz music that played in the background. "Lila brought me along to prank him. My mom usually leaves town for a while— she has a band— and since she left me behind, Lila thought it would be funny if we scared him into thinking that I was his kid."

Dolores smirked faintly at this information. "That sounds exactly like Lila. Diego's so gullible and in love with her that he'd accept that in an instant. How long are you gonna keep up the ruse?"

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "Until Lila's bored, I guess. You're not gonna tell him, right?"

"Nah," she replied easily. After taking a sip of her whiskey, she continued: "and you don't have to call me Aunt or whatever— especially since we're not really related. Just Dolores is fine."

"Alright, Just Dolores."

He had to admit that she had the "grandmotherly" stink-eye down. "Don't be a smartass with me, kid. I can assure you that you'll lose."

Before Stan could reply, an achingly familiar voice called their attention towards the entrance to the bar. "Okay, gather 'round, people. Where is-where is- where's Luther?"

Dolores' gaze snapped up to where Five and Klaus entered the bar. The boy hardly glanced in her direction but her heart gave a painful tug at the sight of him wearing the hat that she'd gotten him. Stan was right: it wasn't fair.

"Haven't seen him."

"Who knows?"

"Anybody know where—" he began to ask, but as he turned to lean against the bar top, his gaze landed on Dolores. Her own attention had dropped back down to the glass that was far less full than she would've liked it to be. Five quickly changed his question: "okay, you know what? We got bigger problems to worry about right now."

He took the journal that Klaus' biological aunt had given him and untied the laces that bound it. Allison remained unimpressed by his urgency. "Like what?"

"This." He revealed the newspapers that had been pasted inside of it.

"Who are they?" Viktor asked as he examined the faces of the women that were displayed on each page.

"These are our mothers."

Klaus quickly put a hand over a cutout to keep him from turning the page. "That one's mine."

"They're all dead. They all died on the exact same day, October first, 1989."

His brother obviously recognized the date. "That's our birthday!"

"Not anymore it isn't. They all died before we were born."

"That's dumb," Diego commented. "If we weren't born, how can we exist?"

"Exactly."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying when we jumped here, we created a time paradox. Alright? Not just any paradox. This is the grandfather paradox."

"What the hell is a grandfather paradox?" Klaus asked.

As the Hargreeves continued to discuss their potentially impending doom, Dolores nudged Stan. "Are you bored?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Definitely." She finished the rest of her whiskey. "All these people talk about are apocalypses and everything going to shit. I mean, they're not even legally obligated to save the world but they do it anyway! I only do stuff if I get paid for it. Speaking of, do you know how to fight?"

"A little. Why?"

"Well, Diego's got his own shit going on so I don't think he'll be able to teach me anything. You probably know more than I do, so how our about my first babysitting job is that you teach me what you know?"

"How about you stop calling me a baby and then I will."

She gave him a faintly amused look. "Alright. You've got yourself a deal. Let's get started."

They got up from the booth and went over to the pool table. Stan handed her a pool stick and began to twirl his around in the air. "Lila says that anything around you can be used as a weapon. She's taught me a bit of martial arts but apparently I'm not great at it."

Dolores copied his twirling motions with her own stick, though her attempt was much slower until her slight tipsiness got the best of her. She began to spin it faster just because it was fun. She laughed at the soft whipping noise it made through the air. "Look at me go! I'm doing martial arts! Yah!"

"Stanley!" Diego turned away from his siblings to scold the boy. "Now is not the time to be doing karate, okay?"

His eyes widened with indignance. "That wasn't me! That was Dolores!"

The brunette smirked at him. "Don't blame your elders, kid."

Stan glared at her in response. "How about you learn martial arts on your own?"

"Fine. How hard can it be?" She gave another couple of experimental twirls but with her judgement being a little impaired, she miscalculated the distance. Her stick hit the cue rack, causing the display to crash to the ground. "Oops."

Diego whirled around again and this time he caught her in the act. "Jesus, you're as bad as Stan! What are you, twelve?"

Dolores' gaze slid to where Five was studiously examining the bar top. Clearly, he wasn't coming to her defense anytime soon. . . or interested in scolding her for being a distraction. She met Diego's gaze evenly. "Yeah, on a scale of one to ten."

He scoffed. "Whenever Lila comes back, you can just go with her and Stan. How would you like that?"

Five jerked his eyes over to his brother at the mention of their enemy(?). "Wait, where's Lila?"

"Shower," Stan offered. "I told her that she could stay with us."

"Wait, when did Lila get back?" Viktor asked.

The boy ignored him and made to head out of the room. "Five, where are you going?" Diego called after him.

"Go talk to somebody who only has half her head up her ass."

Dolores let out a derisive laugh. "I hope you're not including yourself in that statement, buddy."